Walking On Broken Glass
by x-HotMess
Summary: I know I said that men don’t cry on the phone. But I cried when I hung up. Companion to Sorry for the Miscommunication. Nate/Caitlyn


_Alright, to kind of get this, it's probably better if you read my fic "Sorry For The Miscommunication" first, which I wrote yonks and yonks ago. It's Caitlyn's letters corresponding to these phone calls. _

* * *

_**Message received at 12:05 PM on the 26**__**th**__** of August, 2008  
**_**Hey, um, Caitlyn? I hope this is you, kinda awkward if it isn't. Hi, it's HOLY SHIT! Goddammit, Jason, take the bucket off your head! Jesus! What the hell was that? No, not the peanut butter! Can you please just shut up? I'm on the phone! Crap, it's still on her mailbox- **

_**Dial Tone.**_

* * *

_**Message received at 12:09 PM on the 26**__**th**__** of August, 2008  
**_**Hi, Caitlyn! Um, I left you a weird message a couple of minutes ago. Which is embarrassing, so I'd really appreciate it if you could just ignore it and pretend that I'm totally cool and not some random who leaves half-finished voice messages on your phone. See, this is why I hate freakin' technology. Whatever happened to a good old-fashioned letter? I sound so much cooler in writing. So, um, yeah, just thinking about what you said the other night, and I just realised something that totally proves you wrong about the cheese thing. So, yeah, give me a call back, and we'll discuss how right I am, about everything, always. Hope to hear from you soon!**

**Oh, shit! It's Nate, by the way. **

The first time I saw her, she was sitting next to the girl Shane liked at the Beach Jam at Camp Rock. She was wearing fluorescent green. The first thing that sprang to my mind was: who the hell wears fluorescent green to an outdoor concert? Was she trying to blind the performers every time someone looked at her? I swear, every time I glanced in the direction of this girl that Shane would not shut up about, I would have to squint to try and see past the brilliant green that was bouncing of the girl sitting next to her. I needed sunglasses or something to see her clearly.

Even then, she blinded me.

And when I was hanging around backstage after Final Jam, maybe, possibly, hoping I'd catch sight of her again, I saw Shane take Mitchie around a corner, and my curiosity got the best of me. I hurried around the corner, hoping to catch them in the act and Shane could finally admit he was crazy about the girl, when WHAM! A leopard-printed blur rammed straight into me, and ricocheted right back off again, colliding with the floor with a harsh smack. I apologized over and over again when she looked at me with a bemused smile as I helped her to her feet. Sensing everybody's inquisitive stares on us, my cheeks turned bright red and I left her to go and find something to distract me from the humiliating moment.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her for the rest of the night, except of course, when she looked at me, which was when I stared determinedly at something else so I wouldn't appear too obvious. And by some mismatched miracle which followed a few arguments about who was sitting where, I ended up placed next to her during dessert. I opened my mouth to start a conversation, but closed it again when I saw she was fully focused on the icecream she was shovelling into her mouth at a startling rate. I had so many questions I wanted to ask her. What was her name? Where did she come from? How did she get to be so inexplicably fascinating? As she finished off her last spoonful, I decided to take some initiative and try and get her attention. I took it as a good sign when the corners of her mouth twitched when I subtly nudged my leg against hers, and went for it.

I could tell from her first sentence that Caitlyn (Caitlyn, Caitlyn, Caitlyn, what a great name) had an impressive amount of self-confidence. She had absolutely no qualms about chatting to me like we had known each other for years, even though I'd only become aware of her existence a few meagre days ago. Her exuberance was a stark contrast to my usual reserved nature, but I found myself getting sucked in and expressing myself in a way I didn't even attempt with Shane or Jason. They were my best friends, but I'd never had such an instant connection with someone than what I felt with the lively girl sitting in front of me.

As she skipped away from me when the night was over, my stomach churned in panic. I couldn't just let her disappear out of my life as quickly as she had entered it. I'd seen that spark in her eyes, and now I couldn't even fathom letting it go. So I called after her with a confidence that she'd only just instilled in me. My heart skipped a beat as she scribbled her number on my hand with a small smile on her face, and I braced myself for the question I knew would eventually be inevitable.

I saw the confusion in her eyes as I convulsed in disgust when she asked me for my email address. I had to explain to her exactly why I hated anything that involved a mixture of memory chips, keyboards and the World Wide Web. I could see the disappointed sag in her shoulders, and grasped at straws. So I gave her my address instead.

Why not? I thought. There's nothing I love more than inking a crisp piece of paper, and with Connect Three's summer tour being cancelled, it wasn't as if I was going to be strapped for time. Writing letters to someone like Caitlyn sounded like a perfect way to pass the time, and my elation grew as she jotted down her address beneath her phone number.

Then, without warning, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek, whispering goodnight in my ear before sauntering back to her cabin. I touched my face where she had connected, my mouth splitting into a wide grin as I felt the slight moisture that the pressure of her lips made on my skin.

* * *

_**Message received at 9:45 AM on the 2nd of September, 2008  
**_**Hey Caitlyn! It's Nate. Just calling to say thanks for the Tampa Beach sand. I opened the letter over my bed, and now I have scratchy sand in between my sheets. So every time I go to bed now, I feel the little grains on my skin, and I think of you. It was quite an act of genius on your part, really. Oh, and Jason broke your umbrella. I'm sorry, there was nothing I could do for the poor little shreds of paper after he tried to use it to decorate his flipping birdhouse. Maybe you**_** should**_** send me a baby alligator, then I can put it in his birdhouse, and it will eat all the birds. How's that for revenge? Don't act like you don't absolutely love those muscly men, either. Haha, call you later dude, Bye. **

Caitlyn was fast becoming the most important person in my life. So fast it was beginning to scare me. She was the first thing that came to my mind when I woke up, and the last thing I thought about before I fell asleep. And don't even get me started on her presence in my dreams. I was always constantly wondering if she was wondering about me.

Words cannot describe how excited I was when her first letter arrived in the mail. I didn't expect her to actually write at all, let alone so soon after we'd parted. It seemed that Caitlyn was full of surprises. I learnt to expect the unexpected with her.

And the insatiable feelings that arose in me every time I thought of her were quite unexpected indeed.

* * *

_**Message received at 3:29 PM on the 19**__**th**__** of November, 2008  
**_**Caitlyn Gellar, you are a lyrical genius. I owe you big time for those Lovebug tips, I am definitely adding you to the writing credits! I played it acoustic for the guys, and they absolutely loved it. We're working on getting the label to let us keep it that way, instead of adding all these random effects and synths and fake crap. I think they're crumbling! All I can say is that you are a complete life-saver, and that you need to re-record your voicemail message for your new phone, I can hear Mitchie singing in the background! Can't wait to see you guys next week! Ciao, bella! **

Oh my God.

I was in love with her. I couldn't possibly be… could I? I'd never been in love before, so I had no idea what that even felt like. All I knew was that Caitlyn was the only person I could count on make everything better. I could never look at any other girl before and feel what I felt for Caitlyn when I looked at her.

Even Shane and Jason had started to notice how different I was. I was always in a good mood after talking to her on the phone. My inspiration for my songs would always occur after I had gotten one of her letters in the mail. And funnily enough, they all happened to be love songs. I would be excited for weeks before I knew I would be seeing her, and crabby for days after she had left.

Yeah, I'd say I was definitely in love with Caitlyn Gellar. I was in love with my best friend. Fuck.

I wanted to tell her. Hell, I wanted to scream it at the top of my lungs from every skyscraper in the world. But at the same time, I had this instinct in the back of my mind, telling me to never speak a word of it to anyone. Because what if she didn't feel the same way? Our friendship would lie in ruins, and I would be shattered into pieces, unable to mend.

All these conflicting feelings wreaked emotional havoc on me. I thought I was going to pass out when I nearly kissed her on New Years Eve. She was going for my cheek, and I was determined to show her how I really felt. After all, a new year, a new beginning, right? But I chickened out and only caught about a quarter of her lips in mine, and my heart sunk when she jumped back almost immediately. I pretended it was an accident, and engulfed her in a hug so she wouldn't be able to see the frustration on my face. I pressed my lips to her forehead instead, hoping that she would react and kiss me like I wanted her to. But she just stared at the fireworks blankly, and I didn't push her any further.

* * *

_**Message received at 7:16 AM on the 12**__**th**__** of February, 2009  
**_**Morning, birthday girl! Was that screaming message you left really necessary? I'm sure it wasn't. Christ, Caity, I swear you've burst my eardrum. I'm glad you liked it, though. Why shouldn't I have? It was your seventeenth birthday present, because you won't be seventeen forever, I could get away with this tonight! Gah, see what you've done to me? Ever since I've become friends with you, I spontaneously burst into song all the freakin' time. Thanks a lot, girls think I'm really weird now! Except for you of course, being a total spaz yourself. Love you, Cait, hope you had a great birthday! Bye! **

I don't know what on Earth possessed me to get her that ridiculously expensive guitar. I knew she was a perfectly good keyboard player, and she had more than enough instruments in her house to form her own band twice over, but when I saw it, I knew I had to get it for her. It was so _Caitlyn_. And it was the perfect opportunity so assert another one of our inside jokes.

I tried again to show her how I felt by buying her a matching pendant to my guitar, knowing her proficiency for attention to detail. And she did notice, but that's all she did.

Notice.

She didn't act on it. And you know how some people get right back on the metaphorical horse? I am not one of those people.

I am the type of person who runs far, far away from the horse and settles for a pet goldfish instead.

* * *

_**Message received at 5:59 AM on the 5**__**th**__** of July, 2009  
**_**Ugh… Hey Shane? I don't know where Caitlyn is, why did you call so early to ask me that? I- Oh hi, decided to pick up your phone, did you? Look man, I was so drunk last night I don't even know where I am right now, let alone who I was with and what we were doing, and I resent the fact that you assume that I was with Caitlyn merely because she's my best frie- WHAT? Shane, Cait and I were not- no, we weren't! Were not! I don't know where she is, Shane! Ask Mitchie! Why not? Gross, too much information! Look, I don't know what the hell you… Oh, hang on. Oh God. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. Shane, I'll call you back.**

The second I laid eyes on that little square piece of paper, with Caitlyn's handwriting scribbled on it, I knew exactly what had happened. I had sex with Caitlyn. And I couldn't remember a single second of it. I had the most perfect opportunity in the world with the girl I was in love with, and I couldn't recall a fucking thing about it.

What would she say when she found out? She could obviously remember all the dirty details of our night together. What did I say to her to make her want this? I was so sure she would someday reciprocate my feelings for her. That she would somehow realise that we were perfect for each other. And when it appeared like she finally had, my memory of it didn't exist!

So when her name flashed up on my caller ID, I just panicked. I ignored it immediately. I couldn't even imagine what she was going to say to me, I was so sure she was going to hate me. The thought of her being so angry with me made my stomach churn, so I threw all my stuff together and high-tailed it out of Malibu as fast as I could. I didn't even wait for Shane or Jason.

I just ran. I'm good at running. I ran from Caitlyn and her flood of phone calls and letters. I couldn't stand to see and hear her frustration, rage, disgust. Whatever she was feeling for me, it was definitely not what I felt for her. I ran from my friends when they demanded to know what the hell was going on. But most of all I ran from myself.

All my life I'd been perfectly content to be separate from everybody else. I had wrapped myself in an impenetrable bubble to make sure that no one could get at me, to hurt me, to manipulate me, to make me feel anything I didn't want to feel. But that didn't even exist for Caitlyn. She just reached right inside me and grabbed my heart in her fist, strangling me with my own safety net.

I know I could have just explained everything with a simple phone call, a letter even. But I just couldn't do it.

Not after what I did. I stole her innocence. We were drunk and I took advantage of her. She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve _me_.

She has no idea how many times I picked up the phone to call her, before putting it back down again. I wanted to. I really did. But I couldn't.

* * *

_**Message received at 8:33 PM on the 3**__**rd**__** of December, 2009  
**_**Mitchie, it's Nate. You probably already know what I did by now, I bet Shane's already told you… I need to know about Caitlyn. Is she okay? I can't call her, she'd never answer the phone. Shit, Mitchie, I really fucked up, didn't I? I was going to come to your birthday, I swear. I'm so sorry for missing it, by the way. But I totally chickened out at the last minute. MTV needed a representative from Connect Three and… fuck, I need to stop making excuses. I didn't come because I was scared about facing Caitlyn, but I just read her last letter and… and… c'mon, toughen up, Nate, men don't cry on the freakin' phone. Shit. Mitchie, can you please just tell me how Caitlyn is? I really need to know. I do love her, but… Fuck, I bet you're thinking if I really loved her I wouldn't have just ignored her after what we did and I would have been brave enough to… I'm not brave, Mitchie. I'm just not. I'm weak and pathetic and terrified out of my mind. Next time you see her, can you tell her I – **

_**Mailbox full.**_

After I left that message on Mitchie's phone, I hung up, placed my phone delicately on the counter in front of me, before curling up into a ball and dissolving into tears.

Do you know what Mitchie said to me when she called me back? She said that it was okay to cry on the phone. I told her to stop being such a sap, and treat my like the miserable lowlife I was. I didn't want her freaking pity. I wanted her to hate me. I wanted her to hate me, so I would feel less conscious about Caitlyn hating me. I wanted everybody to hate me. The more people who hated me, the less concentrated Caitlyn's hate would be. I wouldn't just feel it sear on the back of my throat and wither in my mind, making me feel physically sick every time I thought about it. No, maybe if everyone hated me, I could get used to feeling like this.

But no, everyone pats me on the back and tells me how sorry they are. Why are they fucking sorry for me? I'm just the idiot who fucked up Caitlyn's entire life, as well as my own. I felt like screaming at them. Screaming at them to stop sitting around and fix it, to help me help her. It was pretty obvious that I wasn't going to be able to fix Caitlyn by myself. I wanted to try. I really did. But as the days and the weeks and the months went past, and my sudden burning motivation to find her diminished.

I could have had a child. I could have had my own flesh and blood sitting in my arms if I wasn't such a coward. I couldn't even talk to her, let alone see her face to face.

Every time I talked myself into going to see her, her angry words would appear in my mind and I would put my tail between my legs and run. How could she think I didn't care? I cared too much about her to let myself back into her life. I'd already screwed her over once, and I couldn't trust myself not to do it again.

I only saw her three times since that fateful 4th of July.

At Shane and Mitchie's wedding, she refused to meet my eye, and yet I was sure she could consciously feel my presence like I could feel hers. The atmosphere around me buzzed whenever I caught a glimpse of her dancing, talking, drinking, smiling. There was something different about her smile. It didn't reach all the way to her eyes anymore, and that wasn't the glow around her cheeks that usually lit up when she flashed her teeth. My stomach dropped with guilt when I realised that was my fault. Another thing that made her shining personality dimmer.

Fuck. I even broke Caitlyn's smile.

A couple of months later, I met Alex. I don't know if I actually fell in love with her for who she really was, or out of the sheer relief that she wasn't Caitlyn.

And I think she constantly wonders the same thing.

Then, I went to Australia with Shane, to see him proudly applaud Mitchie as she sang across the massive crowd at one of the biggest music festivals in the country. But as I looked across to Alex to take her hand and see if she was enjoying herself, the keyboardist in Mitchie's band faltered. I looked across the stage curiously, and froze when I saw the familiar curly head of hair staring furiously at the instrument in front of her, her mouth in a tight grimace.

I considered staying for a brief second, to congratulate her on the gig, to tell her Shane didn't inform me she'd be here as well as Mitchie, to let her know her I did care, more than she knew.

But who was I kidding? I'd already done enough damage. So I led away a protesting Alex to a different stage, and stayed there for the rest of the day, ignoring Shane's pleas to just come and have lunch with them. I laughed bitterly. What the hell was I going to say to her? Hi Caitlyn, how's it going, killed a fetus lately? I don't think so.

Even if she did have it in her heart to eventually forgive me, and I was never going to forgive myself.

The last time I saw her was after a Yankees game. She was waiting in the queue for a cab, her arms folded across her chest, her hair scrunched into a baseball cap. I gulped in a deep breath and took a tentative step towards her. And another. And another. This was it. I wasn't going to be scared anymore. I was going to do what I should have done years ago. I was about a meter away when I raised my hand up, steeling myself to face her, finally.

But then a tall, handsome man appeared behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her tenderly below her ear, and I shrunk backwards, scolding myself for nearly ruining everything in my mind that I had worked so hard to keep stable. But also, I felt a twinge of regret for not just tapping her on the shoulder to say hello.

I miss her so much. So, so much. I miss the bubbling voice that leaves a ringing in your ears long after she's finished talking. I miss the light that sparks in her not-quite-blue eyes when she gets a good idea. But most of all I miss her loopy writing that graces the front of an envelope of her favourite colour of the week, always with some sort of candy wrapper or trinket that would tell me what she'd done that day. Everything had a story behind it with Caitlyn.

The best part of my day is the ten seconds I have between when I left the front door and when I arrived at my mailbox. Because there was always that fleeting hope that maybe this day, today, I would have a letter from her. I would see that lumpy, brightly coloured envelope with my name scrawled across it, the _N_ never quite matching up with the _ate_.

But I never do. It's the same old bills and junk mail and uninteresting crap. And my life goes back to what it is. It just is. It's nice and safe, everything I used to want. A house in the suburbs. A nice car. An agreeable wife.

Don't get me wrong, I love Alex, I do. But every time I look at her pregnant stomach, I think of what mine and Caitlyn's child would have looked like. Would it have had her eyes? Her unbroken smile? For some reason, I can't help feeling like it would have looked like me.

But I have to let it go. Pretty soon I really will have a child that has my eyes and nose and ears and lips. But none of Caitlyn. I need to put her behind me, accept that I'm probably never going to see her again, and get on with my life. The life that I spend flipping my phone open ten times a day and consider pressing the call button on the speed dial number that I haven't changed since I was sixteen years old. But then I remind myself that Caitlyn is long gone, and there is no way that she think of me nearly as often as I think of her, if she even thinks of me at all.

I try and try to forget, and fail miserably. I can't let her go. I don't really think I want to.

And when my daughter is born, you'll never fucking guess what Alex wants to name her. A name she's always loved. And how could I refuse, given the importance of that name to me?

So we call her Caitlyn.

* * *

**Hi, you've reached Caitlyn and Lucas! We're on our honeymoon in Africa right now, but if you leave it at the beep we might consider getting back to you, if we can keep our hands off of each other for two minutes! Peace out! **

**Beeeeep.**

_**Dial Tone.**_

* * *

_So…  
__I hope I did this justice, for those of you who really wanted SFTM from Nate's perspective. I know I portrayed him as the unfeeling villain, but I thought it was time for his side of the story.  
__Was it what you were expecting? I really hope I didn't disappoint anyone. __**Review**__ maybs? _


End file.
